


That Time at the ALA in Chicago

by abigail89



Category: ST:AOS - Fandom
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Holidays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-26
Updated: 2012-12-26
Packaged: 2017-11-22 14:08:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/610651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abigail89/pseuds/abigail89
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim knew there was something familiar about that crazy doc he met on the Riverside shuttle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Time at the ALA in Chicago

**Title:** That Time at the ALA in Chicago  
 **Fandom:** ST:AOS  
 **Pairings/Characters:** Jim Kirk/Leonard McCoy, pre-slash  
 **Prompt:** [](http://bandearg-rois.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://bandearg-rois.livejournal.com/)**bandearg_rois** prompted: _Jim and Bones, meeting as children_  
 **Word Count:** 1832  
 **Rating:** pg  
 **Warnings:** Nothing  
 **Summary:** Jim knew there was something familiar about that crazy doc he met on the Riverside shuttle.

Originally published December 2010

“Hey! Hey, doc!”

Leonard McCoy, three-day old Starfleet cadet _goddammit_ , doctor, and self-professed loner, looks up from his PADD and the salad he's franticly shoveling down in the twenty minutes he has between xeno-anatomy and defense basics _what the-ever-loving fuck??_ at the sound of a vaguely familiar voice. He sighs mentally; it's that kid from the shuttle. _The fuck was his name again? Kern? Kerp? No, it's Kirk_. He congratulates himself for remembering something from that day, besides being more than just a little inebriated and scared shitless and throwing up on Kirk's muddy boots. _Jesus, it's_ that _guy_ , he groans.

“Hey, um...sorry,” Kirk says, coming up to his table and dropping in the empty chair opposite. “All I can remember is calling you 'Bones' in my head and you puking up--”

“Yeah, yeah, kid, don't remind me.” McCoy doesn't stop eating or reading. “What'cha want?”

“Oh, just, you know, checking in,” Kirk hedges. “Wanted to see if you're settling in all right, feeling better, that sort of thing.”

“Yeah, I'm fine.” There's an awkward pause, McCoy notices; clearly Kirk expected him to continue the recitation of his life as new Starfleet cadet _goddammit_. “Um...look, kid, I only have ten minutes before I have to go learn how to beat the shit outta someone--”

“Oh, you're taking defense training?”

“Yeah, which is stupid. I'm a doctor, not a prize fighter.”

“Bones, you gotta know how to defend yourself,” Kirk says, stealing a sip of iced tea. “Blech! How much sugar is in that?”

“Enough. Look, kid, I gotta get going--”

“Yeah, ok. Hey, if you're not busy, how 'bout we meet at the liberry—I mean, li _brary_ tonight?”

McCoy looks up at him, startled. “What'd you say, kid?”

“What, meet at the library?”

“Yeah—you..." McCoy stares at him intently, his memory banks working at warp speed to place the face, the blue eyes, the mis-pronunciation, and then it hits him in a frenzied rush. “Jesus Christ! You're that _kid_!!”

**Fifteen years ago...**

“Geronimo!”

Leonard ducks as he feels the swoosh of air around his left ear right before a bright red butt hits the water not more than a few feet from him. The resulting splash goes up his nose, and god, but he really hates that. Yeah, he's a good Georgia boy who can swim like the proverbial fish, and can swing off a tree rope and into a pond with the best of them, but getting splashed? Not so much fun there. That, and some shit-head kid just about landed on him.

“Hey, you!” Leonard calls to the blond kid. Little kid, too. But he has enormous blue eyes and that ridiculous snaggle-toothed grin that little kids have when their permanent teeth come in. “Watch it next time.”

“Sorry.” The kid grins again as he says it, so Leonard knows the apology is only half-hearted.

He swims away but finds that the kid is right behind him. “What'cha want?”

“Nuthin'. I'm Jimmy.”

Leonard is taken aback for a second at the gregariousness of this kid. He's all of what? Six? Maybe seven? Leonard is thirteen, tall, and looks _thirteen_ —at least that's what everyone tells him. And with his deepening voice and a scowl that sends a “Back off” vibe, it's not often little kids talk to him.

“Hi, Jimmy. I'm Leo.”

The kid sticks out his ridiculously small, skinny hand and they shake, right there in the two-meter section of the pool.

“Hey, look, Leo! It's snowing!!” Jim cried excitedly, pointing above their heads.

The large, heated indoor pool encased in transparent housing and the possibility of snow are the two main reasons why Leonard agreed to come to the mid-winter American Library Association meeting with his mother. Usually, he gets shunted off to his grandparents when his special collection librarian parent goes to the ALA, which isn't a bad deal at all in his book. But this year, the meeting's in Chicago at a huge hotel with loads of activities for kids, plus the promise of visiting the collections area of the Science & Industry Museum. So far, the meeting has been sort of fun: their room is large and comfortable with a large vid screen for gaming (though Leonard isn't much for that); he's gone on field trips to some of Chicago's large libraries and museums; the food's been pretty good. And the fact that his mom is gone for most of the time, leaving Leonard on his own for large swaths of time (“Be responsible, Leo!”), has been a definite bonus.

For the most part, Leonard has been responsible. He's spent most of that free time by or in the large pool. The only irresponsible part has been ordering burgers from the pool-side snack bar and charging it to their room. He has no idea what that's costing.

Leonard look up, enjoying the falling snow on the glass.

“Let's race!” Jimmy suggests.

“Wait a minute, kid,” Leonard says. “Where's your mom?”

“I dunno. A meeting thing, I guess.”

“Is she a librarian? My mom is here at ALA. She's in special collections.”

“My mom works in a liberry, too,” Jimmy says. “But she does computer stuff.”

“Ah. Technical librarian, then.” Leonard is up on all the library positions at Emory.

“Nah. She's a computer engineer. She writes software, builds networks 'n stuff. I'm hungry, you wanna get sometin' to eat?”

“So where does she work, kid? Where you from?”

Jimmy looks up at him. “Right now we're living in Ohio. But we're going back to Iowa soon.”

“Iowa?”

“Uh-huh. She's going to work at some liberry in Iowa where my gramma and grampa live.”

“That's li-bra-ry.”

“That's what I said, liberry. So you want something to eat?”

Leonard levers himself out of the pool, then helps the smaller boy out. “You here with anyone?”

“My brother, but he told me to not bother him.”

Leonard looks around but doesn't see anyone. “Well, come on. Let's get a burger or something.”

*

Taking a bouncy little kid back to his room may not have been the best plan, but it was the only one possible for the moment. First, Leonard was tired of swimming. Second, Jimmy couldn't remember his room number and the older brother he claims was “watching him” is nowhere in evidence. So, Leonard thinks he's being “responsible” when he allows Jimmy to follow him back to their room. Besides, his mom should be finished with her morning sessions soon.

“Wow, this is a nice room,” Jimmy says, running into the small suite. “We just got a room with two beds. Look, you even have a sofa. Lucky!”

“Stay here,” Leonard says. “I'm gonna change my clothes and then I'll take you to find your mom, all right? And don't touch anything?”

“Can I turn on the vid-screen?”

“Yeah, sure. Just don't order anything expensive.”

“I can watch cartoons?”

“Sure, kid.”

Leonard swears it only takes him three minutes to change, brush his hair and teeth and hang up his almost-dry swim trunks. When he returns to the living area, Jimmy is sitting at the desk.

“Um, Leo?”

Leonard walks up to him. Jimmy's hands—and a PADD and several sheets of paper and part of the desk—are covered in blue ink. He's holding a fountain pen. “Shi-shoot! Jimmy! What did you do?” Leonard shouts.

“I saw this and it's so pretty and I just wanted to see how it works and so I unscrewed the top and all this blue stuff came out and I tried to fix it and it won't go back in and—and--have I messed it up?”

Jimmy confesses it in a three-second burst and in a tear-filled voice. To back it up, his blue eyes are filled to spilling over.

“God, Jimmy! I just got that pen for Christmas, three days ago. It was my grandpa's and it belonged to his father before him, and it took my dad ages to find the ink for it! DAMMIT!”

Jimmy jumps up. “I'm sorry, Leo!” And he runs from the room, slamming the door behind him, a trail of blue ink spots in his wake, and a blue hand-print on a white wall.

“Oh, damn. Jimmy,” Leo says softly, looking at the mess on the desk.

*~*

McCoy pulls his Starfleet-issue backpack from behind his chair and zips open the front pocket, pulling out a gold and blue pen. “I've never used it since without thinking of you,” he says, “and how badly I wanted to apologize for yelling at you. You didn't break it or anything. You just opened the reservoir, and the ink leaked out. ”

Kirk is wide-eyed and slack-faced as he looks at the fountain pen. “Oh my god,” he whispers finally. “I knew there was something familiar about you.” He lifts his blue eyes to McCoy's. They widen. “Jesus, how much trouble did you get into?”

“It was pretty epic,” McCoy says, chuckling. “My mom about had a cow and the hotel maintenance was unforgiving. I paid for the re-painting of the room out of my allowance for about a year.”

Kirk winces. “Fuck, Bones. I am—I am so sorry.”

“Jim, that was so long ago. Forget it.” McCoy is amused. “So, what happened to you after that?”

“Well, my mom was pretty upset about the blue hands and all. And I ruined my t-shirt. But jesus, nothing like you went through.”

Jim looks like he's going to be ill, so McCoy pushes his tea towards him. “Take it easy, kid.”

Jim takes a gulp of the tea and grimaces. “That's nasty.” His face turns thoughtful. “I never knew your last name so I could never get in touch with you. My mom wanted to know what kind of damage I caused so she could pay for it. I was kind of a tornado as a kid.”

“Still are,” McCoy says, grinning. “Well, _Jimmy_ , looks like you grew up.”

“So did you, _Leo_.” Kirk smiles at him. “A doctor. Think of that.”

“A Starfleet cadet. Just imagine the destruction you can cause with all those big ships.”

Jim laughs, and scoots his chair around the table to sit closer to Leonard. “So tell me about what's happened since Chicago, Bones. . . .”

McCoy never makes it to his next class.

 

 

 

*~*


End file.
